Freedom
by Solitary Shadow
Summary: Erazor Djinn contemplates his imprisonment in the lamp and seeks to escape from the lamp, vowing revenge. Third person. Pre-Sonic and the Secret Rings, possible spoilers.


**Disclaimer:** Erazor Djinn is copyrighted to SEGA. I own nothing.

**Author's Note:** I was playing Sonic and the Secret Rings the other day and watched the 'Purple World Ring' cutscene. It led me to wonder what exactly happened with his escape. Considering his extremely impatient nature and hatred for people, something leads me to believe that he didn't bother to wait until he was properly free. Why would he still be bound to the lamp otherwise? In stories, when a genie is free, they're depicted as truly free. Erazor obviously isn't.

Sorry. Useless rant over. On with the story.

* * *

People.

How he hated people.

Humans were the most selfish beings to walk the earth, and no doubt about that. Erazor Djinn sighed, shifting around so that he could settle a little more comfortably in the lamp. God, it was so boring to stay in a lamp, waiting for someone to pick it up and rub it so that he could emerge and grant three of their useless wishes. What fun. He hadn't had anyone to grant a wish to, and had no idea where he actually was either. In a desert, perhaps? Or in a sea? He was always being relocated to other places when he finished granting wishes. He reckoned to himself that he would have travelled the whole world at least ten times by now. Too bad it wasn't by choice.

"Just a few more hours..." He muttered. He had taken up talking to himself and philosophizing about how useless life was while cooped up in the acursed lamp, because he had no companions. None of the people he'd ever met were worth talking to. But tonight all he could care about was his release from the lamp itself, and seeing the real world again. After seven whole years of being shut in this lamp, that morning he had finally granted the wishes of the thousandth person. Come midnight, and he would be free for ever.

Erazor reflected back on the seven years of his imprisonment. Seven years indeed - what was that to a genie? They lived on for ever, did they not? Seven years were nothing, absolutely nothing to him; but it was surely enough time for him to grow a profound hatred of people. They were all selfish, all too foolish to realize that they would not live long to truly enjoy whatever they had wished for. He idly checked his memories; at least six hundred wishes he had ever granted was for eternal wealth. Around four hundred and fifty were for matchmaking. About five hundred wishes were for a happy life.

But humans never lived for long, so what was the point?

He sighed and closed his eyes. Only five hours more to go.

He opened his eyes and looked down at himself. There were intricate crimson markings all over his strong, muscular chest and arms, etched into his skin so that he would be reminded of his slavery for ever. Large golden shackles bound his wrists, and he glanced at them, annoyed. They always held him back, those shackles, and without them he would be so much faster and so much more powerful...

_Powerful_?

Erazor glanced at the golden walls surrounding him, and downcast his eyes. It was true. In five hours, he would actually end up free, but less powerful; the lamp had given him powers to grant any wish (except for killing, bringing back the dead, creating love and using a wish to get more wishes) and as a result, he was powerful. He was ultimate. Recently he had started to experiment with using his powers other than granting wishes, as a way to pass the time, and it had worked. He could use his enhanced powers to do anything. Wishes were limited, when humans made them. As a genie, there was no end to his power. But in five hours, he would be free, and all that would be gone; and he would be left as a normal genie once more.

He wasn't going to have that.

He clenched a fist; but how to keep this power? How could he possibly try to keep his powers and get his freedom at the same time? He wanted both, equally badly, but could not have one without giving up the other.

Erazor began to think. His freedom was inevitable. He would be free no matter what. But was there a way to take his powers with him? He would have to say there wasn't. He then thought about the source of his powers. They came from the lamp itself, which meant that he was powerful because he was bound to the lamp. So if he took the lamp with him, would that give him a solution? Would physically carrying the lamp with him do anything?

Probably not.

He sighed and drew a hand over his eyes. Only four hours and a half left now.

Erazor searched in his pockets absent-mindedly, bringing out a golden razor. It had been one of his most important possessions, given to him by his former love, Shahra the Ring Genie. She had been a beautiful girl, yes, and kind at heart. Precisely why he fell in love with her in the first place. But she wasn't there to help when he was imprisoned, which slowly had extinguished his love for her over the years, as his resentment and hatred grew. He still had a soft spot for her, he guessed, and laughed to himself bitterly. Emotions, always getting in his way... how nice indeed. Still chuckling, he flicked the blade and ran a finger down it. Still sharp as ever. Good. He withdrew the blade again.

Once he was free, he would go around, seeking revenge on those who had imprisoned him. That would be wonderful. He grinned again at the thought of his razor blade slashing through bodies, the metallic tang of blood in his mouth...

Shame about the lack of his powers, though. Unless... he could...

..._escape_ by himself.

Erazor shook his head. _Madness_!Pure _madness_!It would kill him! Using the powers given to him by the lamp so he could defy and escape it? It was impossible.

But the more and more he thought about it, more and more he was enthralled at the possibility. Suppose he could escape. Suppose he could be bound to the lamp's powers, but still be free. It would be perfect. Of course, the disadvantage was that it was possible to force him to withdraw into the lamp again. But he could take care of that. Once he was free, it was just a plain lamp he would be dealing with. He could fix that.

He still had three more hours.

So was he going to try it?

Erazor thought about this for a long time, wanting to try it but wary of the dangers also. He was a cautious genie and would not risk anything; if he failed he would die. Simple as that. But at the same time, the thought was oddly alluring.

"Right." He finally murmured to himself. "I'm going to try it."

He pulled out the blade on his razor, and stuck in onto the ground, providing support. Once he had a firm grip, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"I am Erazor Djinn." He called out quietly. "As Genie of the Lamp, I command that those walls retain me no longer, and set me free!" His eyes flashed and his body glowed; for a second he felt nothing, but then the worst pain he had ever felt spread through his body.

"Urgh...!" He clenched his teeth, shutting his eyes tightly to try to combat the endless pain. His body felt as if it were on fire, the shackles almost melting into his wrists, and it was undoubtly the most terrible pain that any genie had ever faced. This was his punishment for going against his fate; but he still did not falter, although his fingers tightened on the handle of the razor and he was nearing his limit. Any longer and he would scream, he would writhe around in unbearable pain, tear at his own body and _scream_ for mercy...

And then his body gave out, and Erazor hit the ground; but he was not lying on the cold steel floor of the lamp, not anymore. Cold, fresh air hit him, making him wince and open his eyes slightly. He was staring up into the night, the deep blue sky with millions of stars etched into them; his body bled from the effort, his fingers numb and bleeding from clutching the razor, and he was much too weak to stand. But he was here, he was still alive, and although he still had his shackles on his wrists, the lamp was nothing but a twisted ball of iron lying next to his arm, and he managed a weak smile.

He was _free_.

* * *

First Sonic fiction in ages. Considering my last one was written three years ago and makes me cringe whenever I look at it, I think I've done a good enough job. It was timed writing, to see how much I could write in an hour.

Erazor Djinn is sexy. Honestly. :P


End file.
